I was reminded of the movie I Am Legend today, which I’d seen a while back and mostly enjoyed despite what I considered a pretty big plot issue. (Does anyone know if they have the equivalent of copyeditors for movies? They really should.)
It seemed to me that if rats can get the disease (and they can–the protagonist is doing experiments on diseased rats), it would be impossible for there to still be human survivors. :-/ And that brings up an interesting point for viewers and readers: I don’t think most people want to have to come up with excuses for a serious story in order to take charge of suspending their own disbelief. (I’m not talking about having to explain something that’s clearly fantasy–I mean issues like this for which there is perhaps a logical explanation, but the viewers never see it.) So yes, we can assume that even though dogs in I Am Legend can get the disease, maybe it has to be somehow induced in rats. Or maybe there’s some other reason they haven’t taken over. Whatever it is, though, I have to come up with it myself in the course of the movie in order to suspend my own disbelief. I actually would have enjoyed the movie more with a nod toward whatever it was, though maybe that’s just me.
As a reader or viewer, what kind of issues do you want explained? As a writer, how much do you feel it’s fair to leave up to the reader to figure out? Some explanations will always exist only in the writer’s mind, but which should those be?
My husband made a nice breakfast this morning, and the kids both gave me presents they’d made. Part of Blaine’s present was this lovely poem (corrected only for spelling, though the restaurant mentioned is actually Courtyard on Grove–yummy place. :-)):
MOM
by Blaine Hoak (age 9)
My mom and I,
Together we laugh and we sigh.
We love to go places and learn new things.
I love my mom for all that she brings.
We love to go to Courtyard on the Cove
That restaurant is found on the street of Grove.
We play World of Warcraft, a computer game.
Our levels are the same.
Together we play and play
We play until the end of the day.
She’s caring, loving and so very sweet.
She is very cool and very neat.
My mom is a very great cook.
She has almost a million books.
We shop and shop
We never stop.
That is why I love my mom.
She’s the ultimate bomb.
Mother’s Day is in just a few hours, and I’ve been thinking about what it means to me. I’ve had a lot of different jobs in my life: I’ve woken at 4 a.m. to pick peaches before the sun came up, then driven to market to sell them by the basket out of the back of a truck. I’ve stood for sixteen hours at a fishery, scraping blood from the insides of salmon with a bent household spoon. I’ve sold magazines over the phone, and I’ve tutored football players who never would have been allowed into college on their academics alone.
The most difficult job I’ve ever done, though, is being a mother. We balance always on a wire, first carrying and then leading our kids to adulthood.
On this tightrope of motherhood…
I have to be strong…but not so much that the softness of my emotions doesn’t shine through in empathy and tenderness.
I embrace them so tightly…but with enough room that I don’t smother them as I do so.
I give them all my heart…yet save enough of my self that I can continue to care for them.
I protect them…yet give them freedom to grow.
I take them to school and practice and help with their homework, clean and cook and wash…yet find the moments to listen to their troubles and understand their emotions, to cuddle and play and talk.
I encourage their independence…yet limit their behavior.
I meet all of their needs…yet can’t give in to all their wants.
I wobble, often, and lean too far one way or the other. I’m always afraid of the fall. But my kids keep growing, and I keep going, and I hope only that they’re wonderful adults when we arrive at the far platform. I love them more than I can express.
Conversation with my five-year-old (or “Exasperating mother”)
3 Comments Published by Deanna Hoak May 10th, 2008 in blog, kidsHim: Mom, are boys and girls different species?
Me: Species? No, we’re the same species. Why do you ask?
Him: Well, because, like, boys like video games and girls like–
Me: But I like video games, and I’m a girl.
Him: I don’t mean you. But aren’t boys and girls different species? Because boys like video games, and girls like makeup.
Me: But don’t you think I’m a girl? And I like video games!
Him: But…Oh, just never mind, Mom.
Me: Do you know what “species” is, hon?
Him: Just forget about it, Mom.
No saying that this proves his point. >-/
Many thanks to an LJ friend. This was the best laugh I’ve had in a few days. I have no idea how it comes up with these, but…
Glorious. I always enjoy being ashamed of the state in which I reside.
A substitute teacher has been fired for “wizardry” after doing a magic trick for students.
We spent the afternoon at the beach today, and it was lovely for the first time since the beaches here were “restored” following the 2004 hurricane season. (That one was rough on us–we had to evacuate three times.)
I haven’t had the joy of living near a beach before, so I’m not sure how much the restoration was necessary. Up until this year, though, the sand they’d dredged to replenish the beach was terribly coarse, and it stuck to you with such viciousness that you had to scrub your skin raw to get it off.
Many of the beaches here also have shelves of coquina lining the shallows. The hurricanes (or the “renourishment,” I suppose) had scoured the rock clean, and walking barefoot across it was almost unbearable. The shelves are now lined with soft green growth that gives like carpet beneath your feet.
The beaches are enjoyable again. I hope they stay that way.
All right. A shamefully long time ago I responded to a post on Mary Robinette Kowal’s blog that read thus:
I will send a gift to the first 3 people who leave a comment here on my blog.
I don’t know what that gift will be yet, but you will receive it within 365 days (likely sooner than later). This may end up being almost anything. It could be a gift box, a hand made craft, a thrift store/garage sale find, a holiday oriented fascination, a poem, a book, a photo, or something else I find. Anything.
The only thing you have to do in return is “pay it forward” by making a similar agreement on your Journal.
I am now getting around to posting. Comment away, and you’ll get a gift from me eventually :)
*sigh* I just made a correction throughout an 800-page manuscript that was…well, the wrong correction. And I didn’t realize it till twenty pages from the end of my final read.
So…back through again to fix it. Damn I hate working with hard copy. :P
This just looks way too cool to pass up: It’s a conference on the convergence between real and virtual worlds, held inside World of Warcraft, on the Earthen Ring server. I may have to make a toon there just to attend. Do any of you play there?
ETA: Oooh! And not that I’m trying to corrupt any of you who don’t yet play, but surely this con is applicable to our field and so perhaps the cost of the game and fees for that month could come off one’s taxes? Hm? Maybe so…:-)
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I'm a freelance copyeditor specializing in fantasy and science fiction. SF/F novels I have copyedited have been finalists for (and have sometimes won) the Hugo, Nebula, Arthur C. Clarke, Golden Spur, John W. Campbell Memorial, Quill, Locus, Philip K. Dick, British Science Fiction, British Fantasy, and World Fantasy awards. In 2007 I was short-listed for a World Fantasy Award for my copyediting.
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